A Desolate Pirate's Life
by holdingoutforapiratehero
Summary: Killian reflects on his actions after the battle for the Jolly Roger and reclaiming his ship. Set after the confrontation with Blackbeard and Ariel. Angst and feels ahead. Rated T.


_AN: I decided to write this because I feel like we didn't get to see angsty drunken Killian dealing with the events after Jolly Roger and this is sort of how I thought his character might handle that. So this is sort of my own deleted scene if you would here. I hope you all enjoy it. Thank you to Nicki, oncertwice for the beta. _

_**A Desolate Pirate's Life**_

Killian's fingers brushed against the railing of the ladder that descended down to his quarters, a place he hasn't seen in months. He was content to just be alone with his thoughts for a while after his ordeal with Blackbeard but more so his confrontation with Ariel. The events that took place left him much to ponder.

Killian stumbled into his quarters, his head jerking up to take in the familiar surroundings of the place he had referred to as home for the majority of his long life, all the memories of past events taking place in the small cabin rushing back to him as soon as his feet hit the floor.

His eyes shifted to the dreary corner where he had held his brother as his last fleeting breaths of life escaped him. Killian's eyes closed instinctually against the memories flooding through his mind, a painful expression marring the features of his face as a result. It was something he hadn't thought about since that fateful day in Neverland, the day that also gave him his moment with Emma. The moment that changed his life, the moment that sent him on a path of heroic redemption.

Killian brought his fingers to his lips, the coarse pads of his fingers grazing his mouth as if he could still feel her lips against his. Her tongue coaxing his lips apart, melding with his in sensual dance as her groans echoed through his ears. He swore he could still taste her on his tongue, a taste he would long for for years to come, one that would never be sated. She was gone just as he was.

A symbolic death instead of a literal one, but then again, what difference did it make?

Killian felt dead inside, his own selfish actions driving him towards the man he had long since let go of, thanks to the blonde savior. What would Emma have thought of his choices above deck?

"_It doesn't matter. She's not here and she never will be." _He thought bitterly.

He needed to let go of Emma and get back to the man he used to be before her, the fearsome pirate everyone knew him to be. He held the rank of Captain, he had people depending on him. His crew needed him to be Captain Hook, and he would live out the rest of his days just like that.

Killian's eyes fluttered open, the pain far from gone from his tortured mind. Killian felt his hand close into a fist of its own accord, the fury sweeping through him as he took in the rest of the cabin. Several of his prized possessions were strewn about in a carless fashion. The cabin looked like it had been ransacked by its previous occupants.

He searched through his belongings, cataloguing the missing items with every heaving breath he took, trying to calm his anger, with little success. The most important and irreplaceable seemed to be intact and accounted for, much to his relief. He would have to see to it that the rest of his possessions were returned to him from his new crew.

Killian felt no change in his demeanor as his precious ship came back into his care, back to _him_, its rightful owner. He thought it would bring him comfort, reprieve from his wasted years and endless torment. It hadn't.

He was still the same.

The void she left behind was still there. Persecuting his days and haunting his nights. The ache in his heart still throbbed without her presence to ease it. Was there anything that would take away his pain and suffering?

Killian's eyes clamped shut, another wave of unbearable grief and guilt rocking straight to his core, his body tensing in immeasurable anguish. He began to tremble with hatred for himself, for what he had just done, for had he done in the past. He had no idea who he was anymore, what he was doing, what he wanted.

Nothing.

Nothing was going to bring her back to him. Nothing was going to erase the precious memories he had with her. It didn't matter what he did or how hard he tried. It was useless. All he could see was her crossing that town line, his heart tightening in his chest as he watched her drive away with no memory of him.

_She didn't know him. She never would. She would never remember what they had together. What they shared. How much he… _

Killian gripped the back of the chair, his heart constricting painfully in his chest, the thoughts of his lost love crashing over him unexpectedly. Killian sought out a book, seemingly ripped from its place on the shelf and threw it against the wall in front of him, his breathing heavy and chaotic.

He could hear the voices of his other lost loved ones in his head, torturing him, twisting the knife deeper into his psyche. Killian clutched the table for support, memories flashing in his mind of people he had been forced to say goodbye to.

Liam.

Milah.

And lastly, Emma.

Loss followed wherever he went. No one would be safe with him. _Ever_. He attracted death and loneliness. Maybe it was better that way. Maybe he was meant to be alone.

_"Jones men do not waste time on tears—or rum, for that matter. If you have an issue, little brother, I suggest you fix it." _The deep voice of reason of his brother haunted him. _"Be the man of honor I know you to be, brother." _Liam called to him, his body slumped in the corner of the cabin where he had taken his last breaths.

"_Enough tears, Killian, you've made your choice. Now you must deal with the consequences." _Milah's voice broke though, his head turning to see Milah laying on her side on the bed looking down at him.

Killian placed his hand and hook on his ears, his face turning a deep shade of red, his eyes shut tightly, his lips opening in silent screams as tears gathered behind his closed eyelids. "Get out of my head!" He cried, grief stricken, the constant feeling of guilt eating away at him like a plague.

"_You're better than this, Hook," _he heard Emma's voice, his eyes rising to meet hers, her form crouching down beside him. "W_here is the man who helped rescue my son in Neverland?" _She tilted her head, a sad smile gracing her lips. "_Where did he go?"_

"He's not here!" Killian growled, "And he's not coming back!" He shuddered, his voice cracking, the vision of Emma plaguing him endlessly.

"_You're selfish, and heartless, and _that_ is what will bring you wasted years and endless torment." _

Killian roared in agony, hauling his body up and abruptly kicking the chair out from under the table, the chair crashing to the ground with a loud thud, knocking over an innocent opened bottle of rum, the bottle rolling slightly from side to side without flipping all the way over as the dark amber contents sloshed from its container and onto the table top.

Killian's eyes narrowed, meeting the half empty bottle, capturing it with his hook to cease its movements and using his other hand to put it upright, the liquid rushing back to the bottom of the bottle in less than volume it had before, his hand grasping loosely at the neck of the bottle. _Such a waste. _

"_Is rum your solution to everything?" _

"_It doesn't hurt_," he swallowed, ignoring the double meaning of his reply. Rum was the only solution to his problems that didn't hurt. Killian lifted the bottle from the table, bringing it to his lips and tipping the bottle into his mouth, the alcohol burning deliciously down his throat. He brought the bottle back down, holding it by the neck, the bottle hanging low against his leather pants as he stumbled about his cabin, bringing his hooked arm to his mouth and sloppily smearing his wet lips against his sleeve.

"_You and I, we understand each other…"_

"_You can join us, and be a part of something, or, you can do what you do best, and be alone…" _

She had gotten one thing right: he was more adept at being alone.

That much was unmistakable.

He had given the _team_ effort a strong go in Neverland, and look what it had left him with: _nothing. _Killian brought the bottle back to his lips once more, drawing another long swig, the alcohol swirling through his senses as it began to numb the ache _she _had left behind. _She _did this to him!

"_Listen, mate: the Enchanted Forest is your home, mine is the Jolly Roger."_

He was where he should be. His home wasn't with _them_ and it certainly never would be with Emma. The Jolly had always been there for him. Through thick and thin. It didn't judge and remained the one constant in his life. She may be just a few planks and sail but at least she was _his_. Killian tipped the bottle back in hopes of erasing yet another painful memory. The rum did its duty in clouding his mind and taking away the deep-seated pain he held and just couldn't seem to let go of.

"_That's it? Emma's gone, and you're going to go back to being a pirate?" _

"_I've always been a pirate."_

There was nothing left there for him! No reason to revert back to the man she had seen him start to become again.

A man of honor.

That man would not be making a reappearance as long as that held true. He was finally where he belonged. _If that was the case, why in God's name did he still feel so empty inside?_ The thought left a bad taste in his mouth, one he was desperate to get rid of. He took another drink, longer this time, nearly emptying the bottle.

"_There's not a day that will go by that I won't think of you."_

"_Good…"_

"Gods, what have I done?" He murmured in shock, his knees hitting the ground below him with a crack, the bottle falling to his feet, shattering into pieces as he buried his face in his hand and wept. Everything he did was for her and everything he touched he destroyed. He had an opportunity to be a man _she _would be proud of and he let her down without fail. He had done the unthinkable and it was something that he would never be able to take back.

He would have to live with this mistake for the rest of his life.

KEKEKEKEKEKEKEKEKE

His crew left him undisturbed for as much time as he needed, none asking questions as to why he hadn't graced them with his presence. He supposed he owed a lot of that to Smee, who probably saw to his privacy, just as he did when he was recovering from the loss of his hand and his love.

Killian emerged from below deck, a stern expression coloring his face, every bit the intimidating façade of the pirate captain his crew knew him to be. The crew fell silent on board, watching intently as he stomped across the wooden planks and took his rightful place behind the helm, his fingers grasping the pegs, testing the familiar feel of her underneath his palm.

"It's nice to see you again, Captain," Smee addressed him in his usual hasty greeting.

"It's good to be back," Killian gave him a shifty nod of his head.

"Where are we headed next Captain?" Smee looked up at him with a questioning expression, waiting on bated breath for his captain's orders.

Killian pondered the question, wracking his brain for a reply but found none. His only answer being to get as far away as he possibly could. Killian's thought process was broken when a curious white bird perched itself atop the wheel, tilting its head to glance at him in the most peculiar way.

"Captain?" Smee asked him again, but Killian paid the small man no mind as his eyes were trained on a small vial and note attached to the bird.

"Smee, hold the bird," he requested firmly.

Smee gave him a long sigh but did as his captain bade him and collected the bird, holding it awkwardly in his hands as Killian's deft fingers untied each item in as much haste as a one-handed man was capable of.

Killian set the bottle gently into his jacket pocket for safe keeping before carefully unrolling the bit of parchment that the bird was adamant for him to receive. Killian's eyes flitted back and forth across the small page, taking in every desperate word that was written.

The instructions were clear to its intended recipient, despite its lack of forwarding address; another curse was coming and it was going to take them all back to the Enchanted Forest. The savior was their only hope and he was being tasked to retrieve her.

_Emma. _

But how?

The only possible ways of getting back to the Land Without Magic was through a curse or a portal.

Portals were opened by looking glasses, slippers, magic beans… _Magic beans: _that was it. It wasn't guaranteed, but he had to try.

For her, he had to try.

It was a long shot, and a big gamble, but he would do what needed to be done.

The note seemed desperate—this curse was imminent and coming fast. There was no time to waste. Killian swept to the side of the ship, crushing the note in his grasp and tossing it overboard to dissolve in the ocean's depths, leaving no trace behind.

"Smee!" He called, walking back over to the helm and taking his stance behind it, his long leather coat flapping in the wind behind him.

"Yes, sir?" Smee replied hesitantly.

Killian turned to him, a strong look of determination painting his face, "Change of course! We have a new heading!" He told him.

Smee nodded in understanding, taking his leave to inform the crew. Smee bustled about the deck and barked orders at the crew at his captain's request. The crew bent over backwards to do the captain's bidding. If it was one thing he prided himself on, it was his command to captain his crew efficiently.

This plan would work. He had to believe it so.

"_I'm coming for you, Emma."_

_AN: I was debating on if I should write his outrunning of the curse and eventually trading his ship and what he went through to do that but I'm having hope the show will cover that especially with these new shots of them putting the Jolly Roger up. I'm excited. Let me know what you guys think and as always thanks for reading! –Cat _


End file.
